


Closing In

by FriendlyNonMurdering



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, College AU, Comfort fic, F/F, Fareeha's got a big crush, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda?, Massages, Pampering, Panic Attacks, Pre-Relationship, Stress, brief nudity, smooches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-08 09:12:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12861387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendlyNonMurdering/pseuds/FriendlyNonMurdering
Summary: Angela Ziegler is just like every other university student. She does her best to balance sleep, a social life, and most importantly, her grades. She has stress just like everyone else. Only now, with finals bearing down on her like a freight train, the stress becomes too much and she hasno ideawhat she's doing.Good thing Fareeha's there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So it's finals week (jk I have three weeks of finals) at my university and I been having a real rough time with it and I just want a cute gf to cuddle and chill with so uh Pharamercy (Pharmercy? Not sure) here I come.
> 
> Never written for these two before (or read any fics of them for that matter) so I'm sorry if they're off. Mercy is definitely not what I imagine others write her as, but _someone's_ gotta experience my panic for me.

This week.

Two final papers. Two presentations. Two exams. Two final exams.

Next week.

Another final exam.

The week after that.

Four final exams.

Angela couldn't do this.

She scraped her fingers through her hair, dragging some of the locks loose from her tight, high ponytail. Some of it fell into her face in the annoying way it usually did. She pushed it back with more force than was probably necessary, but she had no time to be wasted on her hair when she had two biological chemistry exams to study for. Why did professors feel the need to schedule two exams in the same week?

She wasn’t even going to think about the other two exams that she had to go through that week.

She _really_ wasn’t going to think about how failing either chemistry exam meant that she would fail the entire semester.

That ripped a shuddering breath out of Angela. She cupped her face in her hands, breathing in deeply and doing her best to fight off the hysterics. She glanced at her phone out of the corner of her eyes. She had a molecular biology exam first thing the next morning, and she hadn’t even _started_ to study for that one. 

No, she was still stuck working on the presentation for scientific writing that was due the class period _after_ molecular biology. Her grade in molecular biology was better than her grade in scientific writing, but that didn’t mean that she could fail an entire exam. It just meant that she had to prioritize the presentation over studying for the exam.

Unbidden, Angela’s hand sneaked over to her cell phone. She knew that she shouldn’t check the exact time, it was only going to make things worse. She had been at this presentation for hours, and it seemed that she hadn’t gotten anywhere in the past four hours.

And she still had that damn exam to study for.

Despite all better judgment, Angela clicked the button at the base of her phone. The screen lit up with her class schedule as if she really needed another reminder. Her brain was screaming at her. If she had enough time to be checking the time, then she _certainly_ had enough time to be working on her presentation or studying for her exam, both of which were happening tomorrow. 

1:32 a.m.

Both of which were happening in less than 10 hours. 

Another shuddering breath tore out of Angela’s chest. Her entire body shook with the force of it. The whimper that escaped her throat sounded just so _pathetic_. Angela pressed the heel of her palms hard into her eyes, willing the burning to go away. If anyone asked, her eyes were sensitive and red because she was _tired_ , and because she had been staring at the bright white light from her laptop screen for over 8 hours and hadn’t gotten anywhere with her stupid, _stupid_ presentation. 

They _definitely_ weren’t burning because she was on the brink of tears.

Angela sucked in three rapid breaths. 

What was she going to do tomorrow night ( _today_ )? The day after that was the biological chemistry lab final exam. If she failed that, she was going to fail the entire class. A thousand dollars, her will to live, and her scholarship were on the verge of being shoved down the drain with the garbage disposal set to _kill_.

The day after _that_ she had another presentation, another exam, and another final.

Angela breathed heavy through her nose as the first tears began to well up behind her eyelids. She shook her head furiously. Now was _not_ the time to be crying, she scolded herself. If she had time to be crying, she had time to continue working on her presentation.

Angela turned her chair away from her laptop screen and yanked her hair out of her high ponytail. The curtain of her thick blonde hair—crimped all along the middle of her head, belying just how long she had had her hair shoved into a rubber band—gave her a few moments of reprieve. Staring at the ugly checkerboard tile of her dorm room allowed her to block everything out for a few blissful seconds.

That is, until her hair and scalp began to scream at her for being abused and pulling back so tightly for so long. It was the worst kind of pain, a combination of dull and throbbing all at once.

She flipped her hair over her head, and roughly finger-combed it into another high ponytail, pain be damned. Angela fiddled with it for a long time—specifically making it even tighter than before so that there was absolutely no chance of it coming undone—before scooting back over to her desk and laptop. The black line on her Word document stared her square in the face, blinking in an incessant and absolutely _taunting_ way. 

Forget the biological chemistry lab exam two days from now, what if she failed the molecular biology exam tomorrow morning? The thought of losing both her scholarship and financial aide niggled hard at the back of her thoughts until her stomach cramped.

That, or the stomach cramps were from her fifth cup of coffee in the past few hours. She hadn’t even had the decency to finish half of the mugs before she was dumping the contents down the sink. What was she supposed to do with lukewarm coffee? She couldn’t force herself to gulp it down, and she definitely didn’t have the time to make it all the way to the common area in the dorm and reheat her mugs. Plus, the common area closed at 11, and it was _far_ past 11.

Angela took in a deep breath as she stared back at the blinking black line. She tapped the pads of her fingers against the keys of her laptop for a long time without pressing down any of the buttons and actually writing.

Her grade wasn’t the best in scientific writing. It wasn’t terrible by any means, but if she didn’t do well on this presentation, it would reflect sorely on her GPA, and she couldn’t allow that to happen. 

If her GPA dropped, her scholarship would be taken away from her.

That time, as the spiral of panic claimed her gut once more, Angela couldn’t resist the whimpering exhale and the tears that sprung forward. She hid her face in her hands, refusing to admit that she was actually _crying_ about homework.

Maybe if she hadn’t slacked off earlier in the month, she wouldn’t be in this situation. 

Maybe if she had kept her grades perfect throughout the semester, she wouldn’t be worrying so much about all of these exams and presentations and papers.

Maybe if she hadn’t tried to get into the medical field, she wouldn’t be worrying about anything at all.

Angela sniffed, more like snorted—loudly and unattractively, she was immensely grateful that there was no one else in the suite that night to tease her ( _Moira_ )—and wiped her nose across the back of her hand. The tears on her cheeks were hot and heavy as they rolled down and collected on the tip of her chin before dripping down and leaving obvious, shameful stains on her bright blue leggings.

Normally she loved those leggings but _God in heaven_ they were bothering her so much, especially with darkened blobs of tears on them.

Why did she think that she could make it into the medical field?

Sure, the first two years had been easy.

Now, she was a junior, and everything was _so_ much harder. And it was only going to get _worse_ from that point on. 

If she couldn’t pass biological chemistry or molecular biology, what was the point of it at all? She’d walk away a disgrace and a failure with over fifty thousand dollars of debt.

An invisible weight pressed down on Angela’s shoulders, forcing her to curl herself in on her body until she was all but doubled over in her chair. She fought back shuddering breath after shuddering breath, but it never worked. The all-but-wails that slipped out between her lips were more than embarrassing. She could hardly register that she was having a full-blown meltdown when she should have been _writing or studying_. She didn’t have time to waste on crying. Not when she was on the precipice of failure, and it wouldn’t take more than a gentle breeze to tip her over the edge.

Angela didn’t know how long she cried. The pain in her stomach was triple what it had been before, and it was impossible to breathe properly. Somewhere in the back of her brain, with her infinite medical knowledge, she knew that she was fluctuating between hyperventilating and breathing so little that it made her dizzy. She breathed in sharp until stars danced across the backs of her eyelids, hoping it would help center her thoughts.

It did the opposite.

The rush of oxygen through her blood and lungs made her more nauseous than before. And that _damn_ cramp in her stomach was going to make her sick. Angela glanced at her half-empty mug of coffee. She snatched it from her desk, and chugged every last drop, just to give her mouth something to do other than stretch tight with more ugly sobbing.

As she gulped hard around the last mouthful, Angela regretted everything.

Her stomach churned uncomfortably, and she swore that she could feel each rumble in her guts as the coffee snaked its way through her body. She had the distinct pre-puking feeling that she hadn’t known since she was a little girl with the flu. 

Blearily, Angela swiped her phone from the desktop and stumbled her way into the bathroom. She sank down against the wall, letting the cool paneling behind her sink through her shirt as best as it could. She was overly hot and all too uncomfortable. The tears and snot were back, now coupled with copious amounts of saliva in her mouth as her body prepared for the bile that was soon to follow. 

_So pathetic_ , Angela chided herself as she toppled over onto her side, curling up on the bathroom floor like a sickly child. What would someone think of her, if they could see her now? 

Angela didn’t realize, through the haze of her tears and the crushing darkness that encompassed her very soul that she had dialed Fareeha’s number until she began to recognize that there was a voice speaking to her faintly. She had the phone squished between the tile floor and her ear, distorting some of the sounds, but the concern was evident.

“Angela?” 

All Angela could do was do her best to restrain a sob. Even she knew that she hadn’t done a very good job of holding it in.

“What’s wrong?”

Her voice was sleepy and slurred. Angela couldn’t blame her, it was past midnight, and they both had classes tomorrow morning. Fareeha had probably gone to bed at a normal time like all of the other sane students at this campus. Just thinking about sleeping made Angela whimper.

Angela felt horrible. What was she thinking, calling Fareeha right now? She had problems of her own to deal with, and interrupting someone while they were sleeping was rude. It wasn’t as if she could demand Fareeha drop everything and run to her every beck and call. She was an awful friend. Fareeha never called _her_ past midnight, sobbing uncontrollably. This wasn’t fair to Fareeha, who was probably going through just as much stress as Angela.

“I’m going to hang up,” Angela murmured.

She shifted up to prop herself on her elbow, shifting for a few moments and searching out the red end-call button on her phone through a fresh wash of moisture in her eyes.

“Wait!”

Angela could hear Fareeha’s panic even without the phone against her ear. Angela’s jaw tightened, waiting as Fareeha said, preparing for the other shoe to drop. She wouldn’t blame her for being annoyed and ranting at her until she fell asleep again. 

Why did Angela think this was a good idea? Only, she _hadn’t_ been thinking and that made it even worse. One moment she was against the wall, the next she was on the ground with a hot phone pressed against her cheek. 

“—gela?”

Angela weakly cleared her throat as she grabbed her phone, still half-raised from the floor on her elbow. She brought her other hand up to swipe at her eyes. She internally groaned at the mascara and eyeshadow that came off on the back of her hand. She hadn’t even managed to wash her face all night? Just what she needed, a breakout that was the lovechild of stress and a dirty face. 

“I’m here,” Angela choked out. She hated the waver in her voice. She tried to restrain a sniffle but was only half successful. 

“I know it sounds like a dumb question—”

“No questions are dumb,” Angela softly interjected.

“—but are you okay?”

The genuine concern that painted Fareeha’s words made Angela’s heart twist miserably in her tight chest. Fareeha didn’t even sound tired anymore. If Angela was right, she could hear rustling on the other end of the line. 

Angela’s mouth morphed between pursing her lips as tightly together as she could, and a frown that dragged the corners of her lips down to her chin. She tried her best to avoid frowning, knowing that too much of it could lead to premature wrinkles, but this one time she couldn’t stop herself. Angela’s eyebrows drew tight together, and she gasped heavily for air that couldn’t stay in her lungs for long enough for her to regain control.

“No,” Angela croaked.

“Okay,” Fareeha said. She cursed softly over the line. Angela heard the jingling of keys. “Do you want me to come over for a little?” Somehow, Angela got the feeling that Fareeha was coming over one way or another.

“Yes,” Angela whispered.

“Okay,” Fareeha said again. A door shut behind her. “Okay.” The sound of her keys again. “Do you want to stay on the phone until I get there?”

Angela shook her head, feeling dumb for doing it a moment later. “No,” she mumbled. “Not really. I should probably clean a little before you arrive.”

“Don’t worry about a mess,” Fareeha said. Angela could almost hear a smile in her words. She couldn’t believe how good-natured Fareeha was about this ordeal. “I’ll be there soon, babe.”

She hung up.

Angela set her phone down on the tile of the bathroom. She sank down next to it, pressing her forehead against the cool, dusty floor. 

She didn’t even notice that Fareeha had called her babe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part is quite a bit longer and from Fareeha's perspective, I hope you enjoy!

Fareeha stood outside Angela’s dorm room, her fist half-raised to knock. She gaped at the peephole, hoping that Angela wasn’t peering through it to see her standing there like a fish.

Had she called Angela babe?

She’d definitely called Angela babe.

Or was she just remembering wrong? Calling Angela babe would have been a big slip. Plus, wouldn’t Angela have called her out for calling her babe? It wasn’t like Angela had shown much—any—interest, and calling her babe so casually probably would have set off a few alarms. 

Fareeha settled on, if for nothing other than her own sanity that she had _not_ called Angela babe. With Angela sounding like she was having the breakdown of a century, Fareeha could not afford to be panicking over letting a pet name slip. Besides, Jesse called everyone all sorts of pet names. Fareeha could platonically call Angela babe, right?

Right.

Despite her false conviction, Fareeha rapped her knuckles weakly against the door. 

Fareeha rolled her eyes at herself. If Angela was in her room cleaning, then there was no way that she heard that tiny baby knock. Fareeha mentally shook herself off, sinking into a pre-game mentality. Angela needed her to be the stable one right now, even if her brain was making huge loops and gaps in thought. 

Fareeha reached up to knock again, realizing too little too late that the door was opening as she followed the movement through and stumbled over the threshold, nearly bowling over a startled-looking Angela.

She stared up at Fareeha with her wide blue eyes, and _oh_ what Fareeha wouldn’t give to just stare into those blue-gray depths for the rest of her life. But the longer she looked, the more she realized just how red Angela’s eyes were, bringing out the blue even more than usual. Her mascara and eyeliner, normally so pristine, were smeared—in what might have been an amusing raccoon mask if the situation weren’t so serious—and she had obvious black tracks running down her cheeks. The makeup was gone completely from her nose, probably from rubbing at it, and her cheeks were splotchy red. 

Fareeha really wanted to wrap Angela up tight in her arms and refuse to let her go until she wasn’t crying anymore. She wanted to kiss her, too, but that wasn’t anything new. Fareeha couldn’t count all the times she caught herself daydreaming about how soft Angela’s lips would be, wondering if her lipstick tasted like anything.

 _Woah, woah, woah_ Fareeha scolded, backpedaling hard. _Angela does not need you drooling all over her right now_!

Fareeha blushed, straightening herself and tucking her hands behind her back.

“I didn’t think you would be here so fast,” Angela said.

“Hah, yeah, I—uh, I walk fast,” Fareeha chuckled.

She pointedly tried not to think about the way she stood outside Angela’s door for a full minute and a half, gasping for breath after sprinting across the entire length of the campus to get to her dorm as quickly as she could. Her thighs and calves were still burning, twitching at the reminder of running without any sort of warm up.

Angela stepped to the side of the door with a small frown, inviting Fareeha in with a little sweep of her hand. 

“I didn’t get a chance to clean,” Angela mumbled. “My room is… quite messy.”

Fareeha shook her head, offering Angela a smile. “I doubt it’s that bad,” she said.

It wasn’t as though Fareeha had much room to complain about someone else’s room being messy. Her own was slowly starting to fall apart as the end of the semester grew closer and closer. Besides, this was _Angela_ they were talking about. She was the girl who set her pencil, eraser, and notebook out on the desk as carefully as she could before class started. How bad of a mess could it possibly be?

Angela retreated across the small living space to her room, nudging open the door and then slipping inside. Fareeha followed, prepared for a shoe that was out of place or a few papers on the floor.

She was _not_ prepared for the absolute whirlwind that had passed through Angela’s room, scattering clothes and school supplies and her backpack and a pile of half broken-down boxes at the foot of her bed. Fareeha took it in with wide eyes. No wonder Angela was so stressed. Not even Fareeha would be able to focus in a mess like this.

Angela caught Fareeha’s staring.

“I know,” she said. She huffed a small laugh. “It is a disaster.”

Fareeha raised her hands, shaking her head. “It’s not that bad!” she lied. “Mine is probably _just_ as bad, trust me.”

Angela quirked an eyebrow at Fareeha. There was a ghost of a smile on her stained lips before she sat down in her chair and carefully scooted it closer to her desk.

“Thank you for trying to make me feel better,” she said.

Another lie was on the tip of Fareeha’s tongue, but she decided against it. She cautiously entered Angela’s room, slipping off her shoes at the door so she wouldn’t leave shoe-marks anywhere if she stepped on something. With nowhere else to settle herself, Fareeha sat on the edge of Angela’s unmade bed, her back as straight as a board. She glanced around Angela’s room. She’d been in here once or twice before, but never for very long.

Her desk was stacked high with books, and most of her ‘posters’ were clippings from medical journals and newspapers taped up here and there. She had a collection of Grey’s Anatomy—her biggest guilty pleasure, Fareeha knew—to one side of her desk, skewed and precariously perched on the edge.

Fareeha ran her fingers over Angela’s plush blanket as the other girl began to type away. The grey fleece felt amazing under her fingers and matched Angela’s yellow and white bedding very well. Fareeha glanced at the head of Angela’s bed, always amused to see a hot-pink pillow that didn’t match anything else in Angela’s room. She had a stuffed bunny propped against the pillow, off-white and floppy from years of love.

Fareeha’s cheeks heated up immediately, thinking of just how cute it was that Angela slept with a stuffed bunny. 

She continued to look around Angela’s room, now more out of hoping for something to do without getting in Angela’s way. Fareeha squinted at a medical journal across the room, wondering if she might be able to read the fine print without getting up from her spot. Angela sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“No, no! Don’t be!” Fareeha protested. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Angela shrugged. “Not really,” she said. “I need to finish this paper. I’m sorry that I will not be very good company.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Fareeha insisted. “I can keep myself busy.”

Angela nodded slowly as she went back to working on her paper. She seemed to work in bursts, getting a few good sentences out before petering off and tapping her fingers against the keys uselessly.

Figuring that Angela needed quiet time to focus, Fareeha turned her attention elsewhere. She’d tossed her phone onto her bed before leaving, so she didn’t have any games to play. She didn’t think that Angela was the type to have apps on her phone, and she didn’t want to bother her by asking.

Angela’s bunny was the most interesting, and the closest thing to Fareeha, that she could find. She reached out slowly, scared to make any noise, and took the rabbit from its place at the head of the bed. The cotton inside of it had squished down after years of cuddling, leaving the rabbit floppy and extra cute. The ribbon around its neck was frayed, and parts of fur on its face were squished from being pressed against Angela night after night.

Fareeha’s heart was beating hard against the back of her chest as she brought the rabbit to her chest and squeezed it in a crushing hug. What right did Angela have to be so damn _cute_? Fareeha never pictured her as the type to sleep with a stuffed animal, but now that she knew, she was never going to be able to forget it. 

From her desk, Angela made a frustrated noise.

Fareeha all but threw the bunny back to its place as she looked back at Angela. She hadn’t turned from her laptop, thank the Gods, and was oblivious to Fareeha hugging her rabbit. 

Angela raked her fingers through her tight ponytail, scratching at her scalp. Fareeha, from her spot on the bed, could practically hear Angela’s hair screaming for release. How long had she had it up?

“You know that keeping your hair in a ponytail isn’t good for it, right?” Fareeha asked.

Angela jumped and whipped around in her chair as if she’d completely forgotten that Fareeha was there.

“How would you know that?” Angela asked with a raised eyebrow. She closed her eyes with a defeated sigh a second later. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “That wasn’t kind of me to say.”

Fareeha shrugged as she stood from Angela’s bed. She set her hands on the back of Angela’s chair and turned her around to face her laptop once more. Her heart raced as she reached up and carefully pulled the first loop of the rubber band away from Angela’s hair. _Gods_ it was so silky, Fareeha wanted to bury her face in it.

“I know that I don’t look like the girl to know that type of thing,” Fareeha admitted. “You’d think it would come from Amélie or Mei.” She pulled the next two loops from Angela’s hair, garnering a whimper from Angela. “But my mom could have been a shampoo commercial model. ‘Don’t wear a ponytail to bed, Fareeha,’” she imitated, “’you’ll wake up bald!’”

Angela chuckled as Fareeha pulled the last loop of the band from her hair. Fareeha set the rubber band next to Angela’s laptop, holding Angela’s hair in one hand as she glanced around.

“Do you have a brush?” she asked.

Angela slid open a drawer next to her desk and fished around before procuring a hairbrush for Fareeha.

She took the brush, starting at the ends of Angela’s long hair and working her way slowly upward. Fareeha watched as the tension began to leave Angela, loosening the tight set of her shoulders and her spine. Fareeha brushed through her thick hair until she got to the roots, at which point Angela began to wince when the teeth of the brush passed over her scalp.

Fareeha abandoned the brush, knowing the type of sharp pain that was affecting Angela. Fareeha was not innocent of letting her hair down as often as she should, and Angela’s ponytail had been extremely tight. Her hair was stubbornly crimped, not even a brush could get it to go away.

Fareeha pressed the pads of her fingers to Angela’s hairline along her forehead. She made a confused sound at first, but it evolved into a low moan in the base of her throat as Fareeha began to press her fingers rhythmically along Angela’s scalp. _Boy_ , that noise did something funny to Fareeha’s belly, but she shoved it aside for the sake of dragging her nails lightly along Angela’s scalp.

Angela’s neck tipped back, pressing closer to Fareeha’s touch. A grin split Fareeha’s lips, elated at the way Angela sank into her chair, turning into pudding from Fareeha’s ministrations. 

“When was the last time you showered?” Fareeha asked softly, noticing the clumping in Angela’s hair from a lack of washing.

Angela whined and furrowed her eyebrows. “Do I smell that bad?” she asked.

Fareeha went red from her neck all the way to the top of her forehead. “No!” she exclaimed. “No, that’s not what I meant at all!”

Angela cracked the tiniest of smiles. 

“I just meant that when I’m having a hard time, a hot shower can help me relax,” Fareeha continued. “I _swear_ that I wasn’t insulting you, I _never_ —”

“I know you didn’t mean it like that,” Angela interrupted. She turned her head to the right, and Fareeha followed the motion, beginning to rub at the left side of Angela’s scalp. Angela sighed happily. “I was only teasing, Fareeha.”

If possible, Fareeha felt her face burn redder than before. “Of course you were,” she agreed sheepishly. 

Angela sat up, and Fareeha pulled her hands away, hovering them awkwardly behind Angela’s chair.

“A shower does sound nice, though,” she admitted.

At least she _sounded_ more relaxed than earlier. The wobbly, tear-filled voice over the phone was nothing like the languid tone that Angela had picked up in the past few minutes. 

Angela stood, rolling her shoulders and neck from side to side. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Fareeha asked.

Angela shrugged. “You don’t have to,” she said. Fareeha kept a level expression on the outside, but her heart was shooting around like a firework on the inside of her chest. _Success_! “I might be a while,” Angela continued. She glanced at Fareeha. “Are you sure that’s okay?” she asked.

“Yep,” Fareeha agreed, internally scolding herself for getting the word out lightning fast. “I’ll just hang out in here,” she said.

Angela nodded before leaving Fareeha alone in her room. She slid the bathroom door shut. Fareeha could hear everything; the shower curtain sliding to the side, the water turning on, and then the way the sound of the water changed as it went from hitting the tile to hitting Angela’s body.

Left at a loss standing in the middle of Angela’s room, Fareeha turned around in a few slow circles. How long was a while when it came to Angela? Showers were different for every girl, especially when she was relaxing after a panic attack. 

Fareeha nibbled on her lower lip. If she was in Angela’s shoes, what would she appreciate most?

Fareeha’s eyes settled on the warzone that was Angela’s room. She didn’t know where everything belonged, but she could put her clothes away in her drawers and make her bed, right? That would be simple enough. Fareeha only hoped that Angela would appreciate it, rather than taking it as Fareeha snooping around her room.

She stooped down, picking up various pairs of shoes that had been kicked off and left there for who knows how long and slotted them into their spaces on the simple shoe rack that hung on the front of Angela’s door. Her boots didn’t fit, so Fareeha set those to the side of the room.

The clothes stumped Fareeha. Some were piled on her bed; most were piled on the floor in various places. She had no idea what was clean and what wasn’t. It was probably a safe bet that the clothes that were on the floor were dirty. She peered into Angela’s laundry basket that was on the far side of the room. There were clothes in there, too, but they were mostly folded. Probably clean.

Fareeha reached over the mess, carrying the clothes basket the short distance to the shelves under Angela’s bed. She peered into the first one just to make sure. Filled with tank tops and shirts. She separated Angela’s folded clothes appropriately, fixing the ones that had come out of their precarious folding before tucking them into their proper places.

The bottom of the laundry basket made Fareeha’s blush return with ferocity. It was mostly Angela’s underwear. Fareeha carefully reached around them to grab the last few blouses. Her mind was racing. Would it be weird to put away Angela’s underwear? It wasn’t like she was _trying_ to be weird about it, but what if Angela took it in a weird way? Fareeha chewed hard on her bottom lip. If she didn’t empty the laundry basket, she couldn’t put Angela’s dirty laundry into it, and her room would still be as messy as when Fareeha started. She _could_ dump it out on the bed, but that seemed like it might be even stranger.

However, if she just put Angela’s panties and bras (socks too, Fareeha couldn’t overlook those) away in the proper drawer—it wasn’t as if she had to fold it all—then that would be fine. No one said that she had to put her paws all over Angela’s unmentionables.

Fareeha pulled open the last drawer—assuming it was for Angela’s undergarments—and her jaw dropped to the floor. Fareeha snapped her eyes away from the drawer, and haphazardly emptied the last of the laundry basket into the drawer, flooding it with socks and panties. She _furiously_ pretended that she didn’t notice the cherry red vibrator laying innocent atop other pairs of lacy underwear. Fareeha slammed the drawer shut, and buried her face in her hands.

If Angela didn’t find out and kill her first, Fareeha was going to launch herself off the nearest cliff from sheer embarrassment. 

Fareeha busied herself as quickly as she could after that. She gathered Angela’s dirty clothes—and the mystery clothes in piles on her bed—into the dirty laundry basket and then set that aside, as well. 

Fareeha tackled the bed next, organizing the blankets and drowning out her thoughts of _oh my Gods, oh my Gods, oh MY GODS_. 

The water from the shower was still running by the time Fareeha finished making Angela’s bed, making sure to set Angela’s bunny right next to her hot pink pillow. What now? She looked around Angela’s room. It was much cleaner than it had been before, but she still had a stack of boxes and scattered school supplies.

Fareeha set the school supplies to one side, leaving them out just in case Angela needed something. And Fareeha was more positive than anything else in her life that she didn’t have the mental strength to go through any more of Angela’s drawers after what she had seen earlier.

She dragged the pile of boxes closer to herself and sat down in Angela’s spinning chair as she began to tear at the tape and flatten them for easier transport to recycling.

Fareeha didn’t hear the water shut off, or the quiet pad of Angela’s feet as she entered her room once more. Angela stepped in front of Fareeha, wrapped tightly in a fluffy brown towel, her hair dripping still and clinging to her neck and shoulders.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Angela softly said.

Fareeha looked up at her with a grin, but it was smacked off her face the moment she noticed that Angela was _only_ in a towel. Fareeha gulped hard and looked back down at her boxes. 

“Do you want me to step out while you change?” Fareeha asked. 

Angela let out a soft chuckle. Fareeha had to admit; she looked much better than she had when Fareeha first showed up. She was free of smudged, blotchy makeup, and her eyes looked a little less red than before. 

“Haven’t you seen many girls changing before?” Angela teased. “Who knew that the school’s star athlete was embarrassed by girls getting dressed in front of her?”

Fareeha laughed nervously. She turned around in the chair as Angela stepped away and went toward her drawers. Angela ruffled her hair with her towel, sending a few drops flying and renewing the _heavenly_ smell of her shampoo. Fareeha breathed the smell in as deep as she could. Berries and citrus and coconut maybe? She had the distinct smell of shaving cream wafting around, too. Fareeha didn’t know how Angela had the time to wash her hair _and_ shave her legs, especially during a relaxation shower, but whatever floated her boat. Fareeha wasn’t one to judge. Angela thought _she_ was insane for working out when her period cramps were intense.

A drawer slid open and then closed a few moments later. Another opened but did not slide shut. Then there was silence. Angela’s soft feet padded against the tile floor.

“Did you… clean?” Angela asked.

“Oh, yeah, I did!” Fareeha agreed. She turned Angela’s chair around to face her again.

The breath was punched right out of Fareeha’s lungs. 

Angela stood in the center of the room, her skin glistening and recently-washed. She wore a pair of black, lacy panties. Water trailed down her neck, rivulets slowly running over her chest and down her breasts and _oh my Gods she wasn’t wearing a shirt_. Fareeha, in her desperation to look anywhere else, immediately noticed that Angela had her underwear drawer open.

Fareeha spun the chair around so fast to face the wall that she could feel the whiplash.

“I swear I didn’t see anything!” she yelped.

Angela slid the drawer shut and shuffled around a bit. She softly laughed.

“I didn’t realize that you were so shy,” Angela mused. “Do you change in an individual stall before and after games?” she asked.

Fareeha let out a labored, shaky sigh. Thank the Gods Angela thought that she was nervous about seeing her relatively naked. Which, admittedly, Fareeha was. It wasn’t every day that you got an eyeful of your crush wearing nothing but lace underwear. But the embarrassment of being teased was nowhere near as bad as the embarrassment that would have flooded Fareeha had Angela concluded that Fareeha put her underwear away and saw something _quite_ naughty.

“Usually,” Fareeha lied. Anything to assure Angela that she was nervous about seeing another girl naked, and not for other reasons.

Angela hummed softly. She flopped onto her bed a moment later, drawing Fareeha’s attention. This time, thankfully, Angela was wearing a tank top that draped loosely over her shoulders and back. She was on her belly, face-first into her pillow. She had a hand wrapped around one of the rabbit’s feet. 

“Tired?” Fareeha asked quietly.

Angela nodded, a muffled reply coming from somewhere inside the pillow.

Fareeha reached around as silently as she could, and saved all of Angela’s open documents before shutting the laptop. 

“Want me to head back?” Fareeha asked.

She _really_ didn’t want to leave, but Angela probably needed her alone time to settle in for bed and sleep. There was another part of Fareeha that was afraid that as soon as she left, Angela would be wide awake again and back at her schoolwork until she threw out all of the comforts that Fareeha had helped her snag. 

Angela turned her head, pressing her cheek against the pillow to look at Fareeha.

“Do you know how to give a massage?” Angela asked. 

Fareeha blinked. She hadn’t been expecting that one. She wasn’t about to say no.

“Yes,” Fareeha said. She stood up from Angela’s chair and crossed the short distance to her bedside. “We give each other massages sometimes before a game or after training. It helps a lot.”

“Could you give me one?” Angela asked. She had a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it blush on her cheeks.

Fareeha nearly tripped over herself to get up onto Angela’s bed. She hesitated for a long time. It would be weird to put a leg on either side of Angela. She didn’t want to straddle her, even if it meant it would be easiest for her to give her a massage. It might be awkward for both of them if Fareeha squatted to one side.

Fareeha figured, as she put one knee to Angela’s left, and placed the other to her right—with her heart beating so fast it felt as if it would give out any second—that as long as she didn’t put any weight on Angela, it wouldn’t be weird. Uncomfortable for Fareeha, sure, but at least it wouldn’t be weird. That was all that mattered. Angela needed a supportive hand, not a girlfriend, Fareeha reminded herself. 

Fareeha steeled herself before settling in and beginning to push her palms up Angela’s spine. Her tank top was getting in the way, rucking up in odd places and preventing Fareeha from getting into her shoulder blades.

“Hold on,” Angela whispered. She already sounded half a second from sleep as she awkwardly pulled up her tank top and then tossed it across the room and Fareeha was going to die right then and there as Angela settled herself down once more.

 _Don’t think about it_ , Fareeha repeated like a mantra. This was what needed to happen for her to give Angela a proper massage. It wasn’t awkward for Angela; it didn’t need to be for Fareeha, either.

Easier said than done as Fareeha pressed the heels of her palms into Angela’s tense shoulders and drew out a long groan. 

Fareeha worked over Angela’s back and shoulders and arms until Angela was purring under her.

“Feeling better?” Fareeha whispered when Angela’s rumbling tapered off.

No response. 

Fareeha continued working her thumbs in tight circles against Angela’s trapeziuses as she leaned to the side and peered at Angela. She looked angelic, with her mouth half open and not a single pinch of tension on her expression. The rumbling started again. Fareeha almost laughed at herself. Purring? Angela had been _snoring_. 

But now Fareeha was at a loss. What was she supposed to do now? 

Figuring it would be the ladylike thing to do to tuck Angela in so she wouldn’t get the shivers overnight, Fareeha eased her way off Angela’s bed. She pulled oh so slowly at the blanket, grateful that Angela was light and it made sliding the fleece blanket out from under her that much easier. 

Fareeha got the blanket down to Angela’s hips when she heard Angela breathe in sharply through her nose. She looked up at Angela’s face, who was peering back at her sleepily.

“I wanted to get the blanket over you,” Fareeha whispered.

Angela blinked languidly at Fareeha.

“Then I was going to head out,” Fareeha continued. “You should sleep, now that you’re feeling better.”

Angela turned to nuzzle her face against her pillow, and _wow_ even that had Fareeha’s heart racing at how adorably sleepy she was. It was such a change from earlier in the night (or was it technically morning?), and it had Fareeha’s heart feeling all fuzzy and warm. Fareeha went back to wiggling the blanket out from under Angela. 

She got it to her knees that time before Angela turned to look at her once more.

“Will you stay?” Angela croaked.

Fareeha’s eyes flew open wide. “You want me to?” Fareeha asked. 

Angela nodded. She picked up her legs, and Fareeha pulled the blanket back the rest of the way. Fareeha looked around dumbly. Where was she supposed to sleep? She didn’t care _that_ much if she was honest. At this point, she would gladly sleep on the floor on an old towel.

Angela patted the space on the bed next to her.

Fareeha wasn’t sure that she was still alive.

She panicked for half a moment before snatching Angela’s discarded tank top from the floor. Angela sat up a little bit when Fareeha offered the shirt to her and pulled it over her head. Angela scooted over on the bed once she had, and patted the space next to her once more.

“Should I turn off the light?” Fareeha asked. She regretted the question instantly. Why was she making this so _weird_?

“Sure,” Angela replied. Her voice was thick with sleep.

Fareeha tried to look at it as a blessing. If she turned the lights off, Angela wouldn’t be able to see just how bright her blush was. Fareeha flicked off the light, cast into darkness for a few moments before her eyes adjusted to the dim orange light coming in through Angela’s blinds. Fareeha made her way over to Angela’s bed, slipping in beside her and then pulling the blanket up to their shoulders.

Angela hummed softly. And was she—was she scooting closer to Fareeha?

There was no way Fareeha imagined it. She could feel little puffs of breath on her chin and neck as Angela breathed. The smell of her shampoo was stronger than ever, and the spot on the pillow next to Fareeha’s head was cold and damp. 

“I’m sorry,” Angela slurred, “if I was trouble.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Fareeha argued. “I wanted to be here for you. You needed it.”

Angela hummed softly. 

“You were no trouble at all,” Fareeha said, hoping it would sink in. She knew what anxiety did to a person’s brain, but she could not allow Angela to keep on thinking that it was any trouble for Fareeha to be there to help her. 

A gentle quiet draped between them, interrupted only by the sounds of their breathing and shifting in the bed. Fareeha wouldn’t doubt it that Angela could hear her blood roaring, it was deafening Fareeha in the otherwise quiet room.

“I really like you,” Angela whispered.

Fareeha, for the second time that night, was given whiplash. She could hear the brakes screeching and the record ripping. _What_?!

Maybe she had imagined it. After all, the whisper had been quieter than a mouse.

But then there was a blind press of lips against the corner of her mouth, just a little too low and a little to the left, but close enough to her lips to know what the intention had been. Fareeha was at an absolute loss for words. It was like a dream. She had to be dreaming.

Fareeha gulped loudly when those lips, as soft as she’d always thought they would be, moved a little closer to her own.

“Really?” Fareeha whispered back. The buckets of hope in her voice were almost embarrassing. If Angela’s mouth, and the way she moved even closer to Fareeha, wasn’t so distracting, she might have realized just how fast her blood was racing once more. 

“I thought it was obvious,” Angela mused.

“I—I, uh—”

Angela cut Fareeha off, her lips finally finding Fareeha’s. The kiss was soft, chaste; a simple press of lips. 

Fareeha was over the moon. 

Angela shifted even closer to Fareeha, close enough that it was easier for them to tangle legs rather than knock knees. 

Angela kissed Fareeha again, this time a hair more insistently. Her lips were gentle and wet from where she’d licked them. Fareeha’s mind couldn’t keep up with her actions as she finally kissed back, one hand going up of its own accord to Angela’s cheek. She could feel Angela smiling against her lips, and it made Fareeha’s stomach do a double flip in excitement.

“I don’t—I thought—” Fareeha stuttered when they pulled away from each other, though neither went very far. Her eyes were wide, trying to see Angela’s face in the dark, but her efforts were fruitless. 

“Thought what?” Angela sleepily chuckled. “That you weren't obvious, either?” she teased.

Fareeha’s entire body burned. Had she really been being so obvious? The entire time she had been trying to be subtle, thinking that Angela had no interest in her.

“I had no idea that you are so dense,” Angela said. “I would have kissed you sooner to get my point across.”

Fareeha nervously laughed. “You really…?” she trailed off, unable to find the words that she so desperately needed.

Angela hummed in agreement. She shifted until she was pressed against Fareeha, and tucked her head under Fareeha’s chin. Her hair was wet and cold, but Fareeha found that she couldn’t care less about it. Nervously, she shifted her arms until one was under Angela’s neck, and the other over her ribs, hugging her close. She was warm, and Fareeha could feel her heart, fluttering just as fast as Fareeha’s was.

“I wasn’t being an ass this whole time?” Fareeha asked.

Angela shook her head. “I thought it was cute.” Her breathing was beginning to even out once more. “Thank you for coming over.”

Fareeha squeezed Angela tight to her chest. “Thank you, too,” Fareeha said.

“For what?” Angela murmured. 

“For letting me in,” Fareeha said. “For asking for help. For not making fun of me for not knowing that you liked me, too.” 

In the darkness, and with Angela’s face pressed close to her chest, Fareeha missed her crack the biggest grin she had ever grinned.

“Have you ever dated someone before?” Angela asked.

Fareeha shook her head. “No, not really. Once, but it was not for very long.” 

“Mm, wrong answer,” Angela replied in a sing-song voice.

Fareeha had to restrain herself from leaping out of bed and dancing about the room like a mad woman. “You mean…?”

Angela hummed in agreement once more. “Now sleep,” Angela ordered a moment later. “I have an exam at nine and a presentation at ten.” Fareeha could hear the first creeps of worry in Angela’s tone.

“Don’t start,” Fareeha chided. She reached up with one hand, and set it on the nape of Angela’s neck, rubbing her thumb in soothing circles. “You need to sleep, too.”

Angela sighed heavily, but she didn’t offer up anymore protest.

A few moments later, and her chest was back to rumbling.

Fareeha had learned a lot about Angela in just a few hours, but she found that knowing that the school’s angel snored was the best, and the most important thing that she had learned. Still chuckling quietly to herself, Fareeha tucked herself against Angela and closed her eyes, letting the soft snores lull her into her own deep, happy sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought in the comments?
> 
> Twitter: @Nonmurdering  
> my (very) new tumblr: @friendlymurdering


End file.
